


Here And Now

by Not_You



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Oral Sex, PTSD ruins perfectly good BDSM, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Het, Sharing a Bed, Sloppy Makeouts, sort of, warnings may change depending on how graphic people's flashbacks get
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: In the wake of the events at Mount Massive, the Park family has adopted Miles Upshur, because he seems to have nowhere else to go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me everyone for I have sinned by playing Outlast, and giving myself ideas for a new fandom while updating none of my WiPs.

The last time Lisa was this furious with and this worried for someone at the same time, it was when Colin had tried to build a hang-glider with all the engineering acumen of the average seven-year-old. Then she had snatched him off the roof, given him a hard swat on the ass despite not believing in spanking, and grounded him for the rest of the month. These things are always so much easier with children than with grown people. Waylon is curled up as small as he gets, muttering that he's sorry, he's sorry he fucked everything up and that it can't be like before and--

"Breathe," Lisa tells him, and he does, sucking in a huge, deep breath. "I won't say I'm not angry, because I am, but it's not because of this." She waves a hand to indicate her own flushed, thwarted state, and the cuffs hanging from the headboard. "I'm angry because you goddamn lied to me, Waylon. You said you would be all right. Don't tell me something's okay when it's not okay just because I want it," she says, and feels horrible for the tears welling up in her eyes because Waylon is the one who staggered out of hell on earth to get back here. She doesn't know half of what he saw, and snatches him into her arms at the thought, holding him tightly. He starts to uncurl a little, and soon he has his arms around her, his face buried in her breasts.

"Sorry," he whimpers. "I'm sorry, I try to do the right thing and I just fuck up."

Lisa groans. "Sweetheart, please. It's okay. I don't want to scare you any more, I don't want to hurt you any more than you have been. I can just do this," she adds softly, stroking his hair and wrapping her legs in his, careful, always careful of the right one, still tightly wrapped up. "I can just do this," she murmurs again, and holds him for a long time. He sighs, and gradually loosens up. She does her best not to think about working her fingers into him, because he has actually said that he's not ready for that yet, instead of trying to fudge it like the bondage.

A sudden muffled yell makes them both flinch, even though they know full well what it is. Luckily, the boys are heavy sleepers. They have had a lot of questions since Dad had come home from the hospital with Mr. Upshur to announce that they were moving again and taking him along, like an uncle, and now, after throwing on a robe, Lisa pads into the hallway after Waylon, nightlights plugged in along its length. She stops to poke her head into her sons's room, to make sure they're asleep and all right, before catching up with Waylon on his way up to the attic guestroom, where Miles has been trying and failing to sleep for about six weeks, now. 

They find him wide awake and sitting on the edge of his bed, borrowed pajama bottoms riding too high at the ankles because he's a little taller than Waylon. Miles is covered in cold sweat, running a shaky hand through his wild hair, eyes wide as he stares at the wall. He's holding a cigarette in the other one, even though he claims not to smoke and Lisa won't allow it in the house even for PTSD. The cigarette sits between his first and second fingers like nothing ever happened, enough left of the abbreviated finger to hold it.

"Sorry, guys," he says, his voice husky. "Pretty sure I'm interrupting."

Waylon sits down beside him and puts an arm around those wiry, trembling shoulders. "It's okay," he says, "things weren't going so great, anyway."

Lisa sits down on the other side of him. Two months ago Miles was a stranger, now she wraps her arm around him under Waylon's, leaning in against his pounding heartbeat. Miles passes the cigarette to Waylon, who sets it on the nightstand without a word. Miles looks down at his hands, still beautiful with a few missing pieces

"It's funny," he says softly. "I keep dreaming about that fuck Trager. I mean, that... thing, wore me like a goddamn flesh tuxedo, and all he did was lop off a few bits, and here I fucking am."

"...I think we dream about what our minds can handle," Waylon says softly, and Miles chuckles.

"Maybe so," he says, and glances out the window where the moon is glowing silver-white. "I... you can go back to bed, if you want. I'll be okay."

"Come with us," Lisa says, and Waylon gives her that stunned look he always does when she says what he couldn't find the nerve to. It may be weird, but it reminds her of when the boys were smaller, and more frightened of the night. Miles looks like a scared kid, and he takes only a little more convincing than one, picking up his pillow and following them out.

Lisa and Waylon remember about the cuffs at exactly the same moment and she's pretty sure they both blush, but Miles just looks at them, smiles, and climbs into bed. They each take one side of him, and it's kind of weird to be pressed up against an adult male body that isn't Waylon's, but homey, too.

"Sorry it wasn't going so great," he says after a while.

"God, Miles, shut up," Waylon grumbles, and Miles chuckles.

"So who wears the cuffs in this house?" he asks, and before Lisa can tell Waylon that he doesn't have to answer, he does, with a little noise of disgust at himself.

"Ugh. Me, when I'm not freaking out over bullshit."

Yet again, Miles beats Lisa to the punch. "Shit, man, I can barely jack off anymore, at least you're making an effort."

The admission startles them into a shared laugh, even as Lisa feels bad for poor Miles and assumes that Waylon does the same. Waylon might not be up for the more intensive and esoteric of their usual activities, but he can take care of himself, and has mostly stopped weeping in desperate relief when she touches him where he is, thank non-existent god, still intact. She could still take care of him if he wasn't, but she'd have to get inside him, and he's still so afraid of that.

"Can't get the porn loop to play loud enough to drown out the horror one?" Waylon asks softly, and Miles chuckles again.

"That and I have a hard time working around the empty spaces," he says, his tone flippant even as he shivers like he's cold, pressed between both of them on a warm summer night. They react on the same instinct, pressing even closer. Miles shivers again, and sighs a little, relaxing. Lisa presses a kiss to his dark, messy hair before she can think better of it, but he just takes it, as soothed as one of her sons would be.


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa wakes in the morning to find Miles still in her arms, his back to her front. Waylon is gone, but there's a note on the nightstand. She stretches her arm for it without letting go of Miles, who makes a tiny little grunt that reminds her of a nursing baby and snuggles down into the pillows as she reads the note to herself:

_Feeding the boys, join us when you're ready.  
Love, Waylon_

It's so normal and homey and sweet that she presses a kiss to that beloved handwriting, her eyes stinging again. Miles shifts a little, and Lisa smiles with her eyes full of tears, nuzzling her face into his dark hair and listening to the faint noises of pans and children from the kitchen downstairs. She's so thankful for this. To have her husband back and to have Miles, too. He understands what she can't, and he smells good, in his own indefinable way. His scent is sharper than Waylon's, a little more peppery, and he's lankier and harder to the touch with relative youth. He turns in her arms, still at least mostly asleep, and face-plants into her breasts like he belongs there. It startles her into a loud laugh, and Miles wakes up, takes a second or two to process, and then yanks himself away, sitting up with a remorseful grimace. His hair is even more of a mess, and even though this is supposed to be awkward, Lisa can't stop smiling at him.

"Morning, Miles," she says, through a flurry of giggles, and he gives her a sheepish, crooked grin.

"Good morning, Mrs. Park," he says, running a hand through his hair and leaving it looking exactly the same, "fine morning, sorry I shoved my face into your tits just now." He pauses. "I hope it was just now. Don't put up with that sort of thing from an asshole like me."

Lisa laughs again. Miles is only about seven years her junior, but right now he looks about fifteen years old, gawky and adorable. "It's all right, Miles," she says. "Waylon is cooking breakfast, if you want any."

Miles frowns in thought, and then looks genuinely surprised. "I actually do. I'll be damned." 

Lisa gives him one of Waylon's t-shirts and sends him on down, staying behind to dress for the day and to stash the cuffs in the closet again. It feels awful and selfish, but she can't help gazing down into the toybox for a long and longing moment. The cuffs Waylon can't handle right now, the strapon Waylon can't handle right now, the Wartenberg wheel and the rope that he'll probably never be able to handle again, and the two floggers that Lisa knows she can't handle right now, however Waylon feels about them. She sighs and puts the lid back on, tucking the box away and closing the closet.

At least she can eat her feelings. She's the better cook, but that leaves plenty of room for Waylon to make some of the best scrambled eggs in the world. Pancakes, too, and Miles is devouring a short stack when Lisa arrives, Colin doing the same at his elbow. Waylon is flipping the current batch while Nicholas looks on in awe. Lisa feels a ridiculous, gooey surge of love for everyone in this kitchen, but settles for petting Nicholas's hair and giving Waylon a kiss on the cheek. His eyes fill up with tears the way they still sometimes do when he realizes that they're all together and safe for now, but he smiles and dashes them away, telling her that the eggs are in the oven, keeping warm for her.

There's the weird sense of an indefinite vacation to being here. Murkoff wants them all dead, and until VIRALeaks has some idea where to safely put their protected witnesses, they're tucked into this little house in the woods, with its blackout curtains, its generator in the shed, and its complete lack of cellphone or internet capability. It reminds Lisa of the cabin at the lake that she'll probably never see again, where she and Waylon and the boys have spent several summers. There's a feeling of camping, of having absolutely nothing to do to but maintain the house, go for walks, and keep the boys fed.

In one crucial way, their current peace is working against Lisa. If she was packing the boys off to school and running errands before getting a few hours of copy-editing done for the extra money, she wouldn't have time to think about last night, about how much she misses the way things used to between her and Waylon. As it is, it's just another lazy day in the summer woods, all of them covered in bug spray and screened from aerial view by the canopy, Waylon wrestling with the boys in dappled light, able to keep them laughing even while they still miss everything they used to know. He was always gorgeous, but newly returned to her and so unbearably precious, all she wants to do is... tie him to their bed and have her way with him, and they've already established that that's a bad idea.

Miles finds a fallen tree and sits on it to scribble in his notebook, the pen still quick and sure in his altered hand. During a lull in the action, Lisa goes to sit next to him. "What are you working on?" she asks, and he glances over at her with that shy little smile that she has a feeling few people have ever seen.

"Just notes," he says, shrugging. "I always take notes, getting into journalism was inevitable." He looks back to the page and begins to read aloud as Waylon softly explains the butterfly chrysalis that Nicholas just found. _"I still can't believe I'm here, under the sun and against the wind. This undisclosed location makes all the bad shit feel like I dreamed it, instead of the other way around. Pretty sure I couldn't be in better company."_ He stops with a little grimace. He has one of those faces, sharp and a little mustelidine, with deep lines carved between the eyes already, and it's very well suited for expressing the fear that he has just been too mushy.

Lisa smiles. "Thank you," she says, and puts her hand on his. "I'm glad you feel as welcome here as you are." 

She looks over at Waylon, and while he's still gorgeous, the eye of love can see the wear on him. He has some new lines of his own, her boyish husband, and there are circles under those big blue eyes. Lisa had sent one generally calm and well-kept man up to Mount Massive, and gotten two back, bleeding and wild-eyed and full of nightmares. Waylon and Miles hadn't let go of each other for days, even when it made the stumps of Miles's fingers reopen and soak their dressings with blood. 

Now, looking back to Miles's younger and even more worn face, she's filled with a sudden urge to take his hand and kiss those stumps. It's a surprisingly visceral thing, and makes her face go hot. She hopes she's not actually blushing. Either way, Miles doesn't say anything, and when she takes his hand and just holds it, he laces his fingers with hers as best he can.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Nicholas asks Miles to read to him, which is a mark of high esteem. For Colin a story is just a story, but Nicholas does not like stories from people he doesn't completely trust. Now he snuggles down next to his stuffed python and watches Miles with big, birdlike eyes. Colin has his father's eyes, but Nicholas's are like Lisa's, two shades of brown so they're darker around the edges and almost gold otherwise. They dominate Nicholas's tiny face in a way that he'll probably grow out of. Lisa has a feeling that she'll miss it.

"Ready?" Miles asks politely, waiting with Runaway Bunny in his lap.

"Yeah," Nicholas says, and Miles smiles.

"Okay, kid," he says, and opens the book. 

His voice is light, husky, and very expressive as he reads the familiar words. Lisa waits to be sure that he's well underway before tiptoeing out to check on Colin and Waylon. Colin's taste in literature is vastly different from his brother's, and Lisa smiles to see that Waylon has been conned into a reading a Superman comic aloud, panel by panel. She listens for a while and then interrupts long enough to give Colin a kiss goodnight before going back to Nicholas's room.

Miles is just reaching the end of the story, and Nicholas is almost too drowsy to look at the last picture. He smiles at the sight of Lisa, and she feels a strange, broken-hearted gladness that neither of her boys feels too old for a kiss. She presses it to his smooth cheek and breathes in his clean child smell. He giggles happily, and reaches out to Miles, who blinks and looks far too alarmed. He lets the kid take the first two fingers of his left hand and give him a tiny handshake, though, and can't help a smile at the easy way Nicholas touches him.

"Goodnight, Nicholas," Miles says, and puts the book away very quietly as Lisa makes sure Nicholas is properly tucked in. He walks out ahead of her, and looks into her face in the hallway like he's awaiting news of his fate.

"Don't worry," Lisa says, patting his shoulder, "you did it right, I don't have to inflate the clown hammer for a punitive bludgeoning."

Miles snickers, and grins at Waylon when they collect him from Colin's door. Their own room is just down the hall, and Miles doesn't peel off to go to the attic staircase at the other end of the hall. That little room seems so lonely when Lisa thinks of it, and Waylon doesn't seem to mind it when she ushers Miles into their bedroom ahead of them. He looks confused and slightly hunted when he turns back to look at them, and Lisa gives him a sad smile, patting his shoulder.

"You don't have to," she says, "but I'd like it you stayed with us again. I think you sleep better than you do alone."

"...Waylon?" Miles asks, looking over her shoulder at him.

"I have no objection," he says, and for the first time ever, Lisa sees Miles blush. She wasn't sure he knew how.

"Uh... I'm just gonna say it," Miles says. "I'm probably gonna get a boner, and that will be weird."

"Not necessarily," Lisa says, and Miles makes an odd, strangled noise, looking from her to Waylon and back again.

"I, uh..." For once he's at a loss for words, and Lisa does her best not to laugh.

"How about we all get comfortable and talk it over?" she says, and Miles nods, excusing himself to go fetch fresh pajama bottoms. He scurries away with last night's pair, and Lisa sincerely hopes that he'll come back. She and Waylon climb into bed, and he rolls into her arms, blushing.

"Is it really all right?" he asks, and she smiles.

"It's really all right. With me. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I am still bi," Waylon ways, and Lisa hugs him tightly.

"Okay, baby. You just let me know if you start to get scared, okay? Let me know even if you want something but aren't completely sure you can take it, like the cuffs."

"I've been thinking about that," Waylon says, and she smiles at him, stroking his hair.

"Oh?"

"We talked about cuffs over rope, but we forgot about positioning. I think I just can't be on my back with my arms up, because... y'know. Stuff."

Lisa shivers a little in horror, and holds Waylon even tighter. "Okay, baby," she says softly, and feels that stupid prickling of tears at her eyelids again. Waylon kisses her forehead and just breathes with her for a long moment. They're rescued from their own feelings by Miles timidly opening their door again.

"Hey," he says softly. "I'm back."

"Plenty of room next to Waylon," Lisa says, and Miles chuckles, crawling in beside him.

"So," he says after a moment of silence, during which Waylon shifts onto his back to be able to see both of them, "about what I said before."

"Yeah?" Lisa asks, running an idle hand through Waylon's hair.

"I just wanted to make it clear that I'm pretty goddamn gay, and the inevitable boner will probably be Waylon-related."

"That's okay," Waylon says quietly, blushing bright pink. 

Miles's eyes widen. "It is?"

Waylon nods, and explains himself as Miles stays completely quiet, not wanting to miss a thing. Waylon and Lisa aren't exactly open, but they're not completely closed, either, and they have shared each other with a select few over the course of their relationship. Miles listens with an open, nonjudgmental look that bodes well for their future together.

"That's hot," is what he says when Waylon stops and waits for him to speak. Waylon laughs, and squirms happily between them. He has always enjoyed talking about it, even as it embarrasses the hell out of him. Hopefully Miles will be amenable to filthy story time later, it's one of Waylon's favorite things. 

"So I hope it's okay that I actually have most of that boner already," Miles mutters after another silence, and Lisa laughs.

"The insatiability of youth. Waylon?"

"On it," he says, and rolls to face Miles, smiling at him as he pulls him in for a kiss. 

Miles shudders and clutches at him, so desperate and so gentle at the same time, all eight remaining fingertips pressing hard into Waylon's skin, but not clawing at him. Waylon shivers and melts against him, burying his hands in Miles's dark hair. Lisa can see a tiny flash of pink tongue, and then Miles is moaning quietly.

"Isn't Waylon good at that?" she murmurs, and Miles shivers.

"Yes," he breathes, and then Waylon is kissing him again and making him tremble all over. Lisa sets herself up to watch in comfort, and Waylon rolls Miles onto his back, one hand letting go of his hair in favor of gripping his ass. It's a very nice ass, and Lisa hopes that Miles isn't too gay for her to give it a squeeze or nine, herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes at the end of the chapter, check them please.

Lisa loves watching Waylon kiss men. Friendly strangers and more serious prospects, it's all beautiful. He almost always looks delicate by contrast, and from the outside she can really appreciate how long his eyelashes are, and the pretty way they sweep down toward his cheekbones. This, right here and now, is beyond beautiful. Miles looks so lean and so dark under Waylon, and he holds him so easily. They look like they belong together, all pretty contrasts and compliments. Lisa shivers and cups herself through her nightgown, just pressing her clit through the protection of her outer lips. She's comfortably ensconced on a collection of pillows, and can take in the scene at her leisure.

"Fuck," Miles breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as Waylon nibbles his ear. "Oh fuck yeah, keep doing that, but... but is this okay?" he gasps. He must mean the way he's grinding up against Waylon, unable to help himself.

"Yeah," Waylon breathes, softly because he's still there at Miles's ear, nibbling and sucking. "It's okay."

"Thank fuck," Miles mutters, and Lisa giggles. He looks over at her with those sharp eyes that are so indescribable, somehow green and grey and tawny all at once, a collection of colors that almost shimmer.

Lisa smiles at him. "You are so beautiful," she tells him. "May I kiss you?"

"Shit," Miles breathes, biting his lip and moaning quietly as Waylon tenderly bites his neck. "I d-don't think I’ve--ah! K-kissed a woman since two thousand f-four."

"That doesn't have to change if you don't want it to," Lisa assures him as Waylon slides his hand under Miles's shirt, making him whimper quietly. 

When Waylon hesitates, Miles puts his hand over his. "That was a good noise, don't stop."

"Okay," Waylon pants, and goes back to feeling Miles up as he reaches for Lisa.

"You may kiss me," he says grandly, and grins at her. 

Lisa grins back, and then leans in and presses her lips to his. His mouth is softer than it looks, mobile and responsive, and he makes a sweet little humming noise. He strokes her hair like he's fascinated by the texture, and they linger for a long time. Lisa can feel Waylon watching them by the time they part, and his eyes are bright, his hair a complete mess. She has to kiss him, and he shivers happily before turning his attention back to Miles, who is pitching an impressive tent in his pajama pants.

"I want to touch you," Waylon says, his hands hesitating at Miles's waistband. "Is that all right?"

"So much better than all right," Miles moans, and wriggles out of the pants, biting his lip at the incidental contact with his cock, so full and dark already. 

For just a moment Lisa is worried about Waylon, and then he has his hand wrapped around Miles, squeezing and stroking, easing his movements with the slick precome welling up from Miles's slit. 

"Fuck," Miles whimpers, "please, please, like this..." 

With one shaking hand, he repositions Waylon's fingers in a particular way that shows just how much he must miss his own index finger. It takes Waylon a moment to figure it out, but then Miles is panting harshly and struggling not to moan. He looks around desperately and grabs a pillow, cramming it over his face as he makes a sound like a sob into it, coming all over Waylon's hand. He whimpers a little more as he struggles to catch his breath without too much noise. Waylon smiles and presses a kiss to the middle of Miles's lean chest. He's dark by comparison, and so smooth. Waylon takes a long moment to just rub his face all over it, and Miles chuckles.

"Enjoying yourself, honey?" he drawls, and Waylon looks up at him with that wide, purely happy smile that Lisa has always loved and doesn't see enough of these days. He's flushed and his hair is a mess and they're both so beautiful she can barely stand it.

And then there's a little knock on the door that makes Miles jump out of his skin. He'd go over the side of the bed if Waylon wasn't holding him down.

"Yes?" Lisa calls, glad that she's only a little flushed, and that women generally don't have really obvious hardons.

"Mom," Nicholas whines, drawing it out, "Mom, I need a drink of water!"

Lisa grins over at her companions. "I'll take care of this. Just lie down."

Miles looks dubious, but lets Waylon tuck him in. Lisa puts on her robe while she waits for Waylon to hide his slick hand and his own erection. Once they look plausible, Lisa opens the door. The overall delay is about ten seconds, so Nicholas isn't too upset. Besides, he has Mr. Keddington for company. It's a large toy, and occupies his arms nicely when he's feeling insecure.

Colin might wonder what Uncle Miles is doing in their bed, but Nicholas is just five, and doesn't seem to think much of it. He's also small enough for his age that she scoops him up onto her hip the way she still does when he seems very small or particularly frightened. He's just tense tonight, though, and he's a sensitive kid, tension in his light little body is far from unusual.

"Poor little thirsty thing," she coos, and carries him down to the kitchen, because there's a nice pitcher of water with a little bit of mint, something all five of them enjoy. She pours two small glasses and sits at the kitchen table, Nicholas in her lap. He sips quietly, Mr. Keddington in the crook of his free arm. "Feeling better?" Lisa asks when half of Nicholas's water is gone.

"Yeah," he says softly, and cuddles close to her. She breathes in his clean child smell, and reminds herself to savor this, that soon he really will be too big to carry, not just too big to carry a long way. She's just about to ask him if he wants the rest of his water or not, when he speaks again. "Mom?"

"Yeah, honey?" she says, stroking his hair, dark like hers and straight like Waylon's.

"Why was Uncle Miles in bed with you and Dad?"

Lisa ponders this for a moment, and then decides to lie solely by omission. "You know he and your dad saw lots of scary things, right?"

"And we have to live here because the bad people want to get away with it," Nicholas says, hugging Mr. Keddington tight.

"Right, and Miles and your dad and I aren't going to let anything happen to you. Mr. Peacock and his friends won't, either." Nicholas nods, looking much less nervous than he could. "Anyway, both of them are still having bad dreams about it, like when that dog hurt Mary." Nicholas nods, and Lisa is glad to see that mentioning it doesn't upset him. "Even though Mary got better, it was still really, really scary. You remember your bad dreams, and how sleeping on your own made it worse." The poor babies had only just turned four, and her sweet, easy-going Waylon had been ready to choke the irresponsible owner with his bare hands.

Nicholas nods, only five and completely open to the idea of unrelated adults sleeping with Mom and Dad because they're having bad dreams. "Is it getting better?" he asks, and Lisa smiles, petting him again as he takes a long pull of his water.

"I hope so," she says. "It's still early, and it was _really_ scary. Maybe someday we'll tell you how much, but you're too little to hear it now."

"I'm just glad Dad's safe," Nicholas says softly, hugging Mr. Keddington. "And that we have Uncle Miles."

"Good," Lisa says. "Your dad and I are glad too." Nicholas smiles and finishes his drink. "You ready to go back to bed, kiddo?"

He nods, and Lisa leads him back to his own room, waiting outside the bathroom to keep Mr. Keddington from getting wet, and because nightlights or not, Nicholas doesn't like walking alone after dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's the mention of a past dog attack on a small child in this one. It's brief and non-graphic and everyone's okay now, but I know this is a shitty thing that really happens to a lot of people, so heads up. The first half of this chapter is all porn, if you're feeling too raw about something to read even a brief mention. You can still have a Waylon-on-Miles hand job. <3


	5. Chapter 5

Lisa puts Nicholas back to bed, and sits down on the edge of the mattress. He really is ready to go back to sleep, cuddling his stuffed snake and smiling a little as she strokes his hair. She sings to him, 'All The Pretty Little Horses,' as always leaving out the verse about the lamb. Nicholas is asleep almost before the song ends, and Lisa smiles, kissing his forehead and tiptoeing out to check on Colin. Finding him fast asleep, she kisses him as well and slips out of his room and down the hallway. 

She steps quietly back into her bedroom, and smiles to see that Waylon has thoughtfully saved his cock for her use. It's pitching a tent in the covers as Miles cups his face in both hands. He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, like he's hungry for it, like he hasn't just done this in far too long. It's sweet, and Lisa is quiet and calm as she removes her robe and climbs back into bed, not wanting to disturb them. Waylon gives Miles one last kiss for the moment, and turns to her.

"Nicholas all right?" he asks, and Lisa has to kiss him for putting their children first. He purrs, rising up to meet her, and when she glances over at Miles afterward, he smiles.

"Fine," she tells Waylon, "Just needed an escort."

"So now it's time to take care of you," he says, and he has that happy puppy look that always makes him such fun to put on a leash.

Miles chuckles, and laces his fingers behind his head, lounging back to just watch as Waylon settles himself between Lisa's legs, his soft-hard hairy body so familiar and so beloved against her own. For a while she just holds him and kisses him, giving his cock a few strokes to make it ache, to let him know that every bit of it is there, all sweet and soft and sound, but finally she pushes him down. He's happy to go, even if he takes a completely unnecessary amount of time over her tits. She glances over at Miles, and he grins.

"I may be gay, but that's a nice rack you've got," he says, and Lisa rolls her eyes, letting out a soft noise as Waylon latches onto one nipple, humming with delight. "I mean, they're phenomenal for having had two kids."

"Who stayed on me for a good long while," Lisa says, and then gasps as Waylon gets both hands in on the action, really using his years of knowledge of her tits. He has a perfect touch, firm but not rough, and knows to pinch her nipples and only sometimes bite them, and just how hard to do it. She falls into it for a long moment, and then glances over at Miles again, wondering why this isn't weird.

"Hey," he says, "I'm just happy to be here. And you are _so_ far from a sharp stick in the eye, Lisa."

"Same to you, fella," Lisa says, and Waylon chuckles, giving her a last squeeze before kissing his way down her belly. She can't help but be self-conscious sometimes of how soft it is, but fuck it, she's had two babies and Waylon is thicker than when they met too, so there. And now, well. Miles is gay. She looks over at him again as Waylon settles her knees over his shoulders and starts to nuzzle his way into her, slowly, just the way she likes it. Lisa hates to shave, and thinks the fashion for it is kind of gross, but she does try to keep everything neatly trimmed, and she's pretty sure that Miles can see the way Waylon gets settled, and how he just rubs his lower lip over her clit at first, holding her outer lips closed over it. Lisa is sensitive, and needs careful handling. She murmurs that to Miles between quiet moans, and he grins.

"My prostate's like that," he says. "I mostly top, 'cause guys always wanna pound you, and I can only take that sometimes. And at just the right angle."

Lisa smiles, amused and horny and so grateful, so grateful to be here with her family. Her hands go up to her breasts to replace Waylon's, and she looks over at Miles again, rubbing Waylon's back with her heel. "You ever feel like kissing girls, Miles?"

"Right now? Ab-so-fucking-lutely," Miles says. He sounds a little surprised at himself, but moves closer, and reaches to brush Lisa's hair out of her face with one of those beautiful hands. "You really are pretty," he says, more to himself than to her, and then kisses her, soft and so gentle it seems like he's afraid of breaking her. It's nice, though, and she coaxes him along, glad to feed his hunger for kisses, even if hers aren't quite the right flavor. 

She gasps and moans into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and groaning as Waylon works his tongue into her, before pulling out to suckle each lip in turn and then finally swirl the tip of his tongue around her clit in that unendurable way that can make her scream when things are fiercer, and there are no children to hear. Under the current circumstances, she muffles herself with Miles's mouth, and grabs of one of his hands, putting it on her breast. She lets him decide to keep it there, and he does. He doesn't seem to have much idea what to do, but his exploration is gentle, and far from unpleasant. Once he dares to touch her nipple, he rolls it between his fingertips in an assured way that makes her whimper. 

Waylon moans softly, and looks up at both of them, his mouth gleaming wet. "You're both so damn beautiful," he says, his voice cracking a little. Miles wraps his leg over Waylon's hip, and Waylon shivers, smiling. "You look good kissing a girl," he adds, to Miles, and Lisa laughs, petting them both.

"I think Miles looks good kissing anyone."

Miles actually blushes at that, and it's just as magical as it was the first time. "Thank you ma'am," he mumbles, and Lisa chuckles, kissing his cheek.

"Get back to work, Park," she tells Waylon, and for half a second is afraid she sounds too much like some Murkoff asshole, but he makes that happy little cooing noise he always makes when he wants to serve and she gives him an order, and dives back down.

No hesitation, nothing but quiet groans of pleasure as he works her just right. Miles shudders, his eyes wide, and he moans softly into Lisa's mouth when she kisses him again. He shudders when she clutches at him, and Waylon almost makes her come and that's her excuse for digging her nails into the wiry muscle of Miles's back, right up near his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

"Ohhh, _fuck_ yes," Miles breathes before Lisa can even ask if he's all right, and so she claws him desperately and uses his mouth to muffle her cries as she comes, Waylon licking her through it, letting her ride his tongue. Miles whimpers and grinds against Waylon's side like he can't even help it, and when Lisa finally lets him go, he looks stunned.

"Okay," he says at last, eyes big, "I've got a raging boner that's at least fifty percent from making out with a woman, and that's a little weird. Mostly hot, though," he hastens to add, and Waylon laughs.


	6. Chapter 6

Miles is hot and hard and embarrassed, always an intoxicating combination for Lisa, and she's glad that Waylon is just as insistent on not letting him just jerk off. Waylon pins him down again and Miles lets him, smiles up at him like there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Waylon smiles back, and kisses Miles for a long time, both of them moaning softly. Miles lets out a little noise of complaint when Waylon pulls away, but then his eyes get huge as Waylon starts working his way down Miles's body, kissing his smooth chest. Near his waist, Waylon looks up at him, and Miles stares back.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Only if you want," Waylon says, pressing a kiss beside his navel.

"I so fucking want," Miles breathes, gazing down at him. "God, your pretty mouth..."

Both of them were tested for everything under the sun while they recuperated from their time at Mount Massive, so Lisa has nothing to worry about as Waylon takes just the head of Miles's cock into his mouth at first. Waylon likes to take it slow, not really into choking himself on cock. Or letting anyone else do it for him, but Miles is polite, just running his fingers through Waylon's hair while he stares down at him like he has never seen anything more beautiful. Waylon happily sucking cock is pretty beautiful, Lisa must allow. She wraps a leg over one of Miles's to stroke Waylon's back with her foot, glancing up at Miles's face to make sure he doesn't mind. He smiles over at her like he's reading her mind.

"Hey," he says with a little shrug, "I'm just borrowing him. Fffuck! Oh man, I was about to ask if I shouldn't talk like that, but that was... enthusiastic..." he breathes. "So, uh, yeah, put your hands or feet or tits or whatever all over your own property, why don'tcha?"

"Was that last one a hint?" Lisa coos, and then shifts down to trail the softness of her breasts all the way up Waylon's back. One of the good things about having had two kids is that she has kept the gain of each pregnancy, all the way up to medium now. Waylon loved them when they were pert little handfuls and he loves them now, moaning softly around Miles's cock.

"Jesus Christ," Miles mutters, and Lisa laughs, kissing his chest and taking her former position again, watching him as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

It really is a gorgeous sight, and her glances down at Waylon only make it better. She tangles her fingers into his hair with Miles's, and gives a gentle tug that makes him moan quietly. The vibration makes Miles writhe, biting his lip and hissing like it hurts, cursing under his breath and then groaning a barely-coherent warning before he's coming, abs tightening up and making him curl up over Waylon's head, clutching at him helplessly, mouth hanging open as he shakes his way through it. Waylon takes everything Miles has to give, making a deep, happy noise in his chest, swallowing and swallowing.

"Fffuck," Miles breathes at last, flopping back onto the pillows. "Good boy," he mumbles, stroking Waylon's hair, and Waylon coos through his nose, mouth still full of cock. He rolls those big blue eyes up to look at them, and Lisa is close enough to feel Miles shiver.

"You've got his number," she murmurs, suddenly swamped by a wave of fondness for both of them. 

She nuzzles along Miles's cheek because he's the one in easy kissing range, going in slow and giving him plenty of time to pull back. He doesn't. He sighs and melts into it when Lisa kisses him, one hand with hers in Waylon's hair, the other stroking her hair. It's a tentative, sweet touch, and Lisa sighs, nibbling on Miles's lower lip while Waylon stays where he is, holding onto Miles's cock like a pacifier.

At long last, Waylon pulls off, panting softly, and Miles shivers. "Back with us, honey?"

"Y-yeah," Waylon says, blushing. He squirms happily, working his way up to the level to like between them. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and chuckles when Miles kisses him.

Waylon is hard again, and Lisa is wet and aching from watching them. Miles is glad to get a condom out of the drawer. There may be no real risk of disease in this bed, but they haven't gotten around to tying anyone's tubes yet, either, and this is no time to be giving hostages to fortune. Miles is happy to prepare the condom and roll it onto Waylon, giving him a loving squeeze and smiling at the helpless little noise he makes.

"All right, tiger," Miles says, amused and fond in equal parts, "now you're ready." 

He gives Waylon a fond slap on the ass that makes him laugh even as he settles between Lisa's thighs and slides into her, blunt and familiar. He stretches her like he always has, and sinks as deep as he can, knowing that with this much time spent watching and waiting has left her wanting him there. Lisa shifts to ride on top, pushing Waylon onto his back. He's glad to go, and Miles chuckles, leaning on his elbow and watching them with bright, feline eyes. Lisa grins at him, and starts to move.

Waylon groans quietly and rocks his hips up, helping Lisa to grind deep and slow on his tip, tucking it up behind her cervix. Once they have a good rhythm started he rests his hand on her hip, spreading his fingers until his thumb is resting on her clit. He just leaves it there, not so much stroking Lisa as letting her stroke herself. She's close now, and cups her breasts in her hands, kneading gently as she rocks her way to a long, shuddering orgasm that has to be quiet because she can't yell. Waylon comes along with her, with his usual consideration and good timing. He lets out a desperate half-shout, biting onto the heel of his hand to muffle it, and the two of them shake to stillness together. As soon as he can move again, Waylon stretches out one arm to gather Miles in against his side.

"C'mere," he mumbles, and Miles is glad to obey, cuddling them both. Lisa chuckles, hissing softly as she eases off of Waylon, carefully stripping the condom off of him. He always makes a point of putting himself last, since he is useless after he comes. Now he snuggles into Miles's chest as Lisa finds some wet wipes to clean everyone up with. Miles blinks at her, and she grins.

"Once you have your second child, you become able to spontaneously generate these," she says, and Miles laughs.

"Cold," Waylon whines, and Miles kisses his head.

"Poor baby," he coos. "That's the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone."

"Yes," Waylon mutters, and mashes his face against Miles's skin again, making them both laugh.

"Is he always like this, post-coital?" Miles asks, and Lisa smiles, switching off the lamp and nestling down into the pillows.

"This the sophisticated and energetic version," she says, putting an arm around Waylon, pressing him between herself and Miles. He coos, high pitched and silly-sweet, and even without enough light to see clearly, Lisa knows that Miles is smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

Earlier than Lisa wants to be awake, she feels someone kicking, and hears the soft noises that mean Waylon is having a bad dream. At least it hasn't worked itself up to a screaming nightmare. She hugs him tightly and starts rocking him awake.

"Baby, baby, it's okay, it's okay, you're here with me and Miles." 

"It's half-past five am," Miles says softly, wrapping his long arm over Lisa's, "and you're safe."

"Th-thanks," Waylon gasps, and trembles, turning to hold Lisa so tightly it hurts a little. She doesn't bother trying to get him to ease up, just covers his face in little kisses as he calms down.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Lisa murmurs, and she can feel the mattress shifting as Miles draws back from them, not getting out of bed but clearly thinking about it. Waylon grabs his wrist, and there's a moment of strange and tense stillness.

"Stay," Waylon whispers, his voice husky and cracked.

"...Okaaay," Miles says, and puts his arm around Waylon again.

"Just because my horrible dream had Lisa in it and not you doesn't mean your hugs are unwelcome," Waylon says, and Miles makes a harsh, amused little noise, wrapping his arm around Waylon again and cuddling close.

"Is being squished helping?" he quietly asks. "Like how baby rats need their mothers to sit on them?"

"Yeah," Waylon says. He sounds papery and exhausted, and Lisa kisses his forehead.

"It's okay, honey. You want me to go check on the boys?"

"I will," he says. "In a minute." For the moment he just clings to her, one hand spread wide over her belly the way he always did when she was pregnant. Waylon has such big hands for a kinda medium-small guy. Lisa spreads her hand over his.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lisa asks, when all three of them have been breathing quietly together for some time.

"No," Waylon says, and kisses her, gently extricating himself from her arms. "I'll be back in a minute."

He pads off to look in on the boys, and Lisa sighs. She knows that he's been through a lot and will have dreams and flashbacks, but it doesn't make it any easier to have her husband in pain that she can't do anything about. "I don't actually wish I understood..." she says at last, and Miles laughs.

"Yeah, I know." He rolls onto his side to see her better, his face showing a mix of longing and confusion.

"Come here," Lisa says softly, and Miles crawls into her arms. It's nice to have someone to hold while Waylon is up, and she likes Miles. When she says so he laughs and squirms a little, but doesn't actually pull away.

"I, uh... I like you a lot," Miles mutters, staring into the shadows. "And that's kinda weird for me."

Lisa chuckles. "I know." She strokes Miles's hair and kisses his cheek. "I like you, too, so it all works out."

"Okay," he mutters, and hides his face in her shoulder until Waylon comes back.

"Boys are asleep," Waylon murmurs, climbing back into bed on Miles's side. He clings to Miles almost the way he did in the hospital, and Miles turns to wrap his arms around Waylon as naturally as breathing.

"They're fine," Miles says softly, and Lisa remembers what Waylon said, about how when he was really panicked about the boys, Miles would make him take deep, even breaths and walk him through each of their lives. Birth, first teeth, first illnesses, first steps. Everything really important, from Lisa's pregnancies up through the present day. Now Waylon just takes a shuddering breath and nods, his face tucked into the crook of Miles's neck.

"I just... I was back with Gluskin's... art projects."

Lisa's stomach turns. Waylon hadn't wanted to tell her anything about it, but she had insisted on seeing the footage if she was going to have to take her children into hiding for it. Even then Waylon hadn't shown her all of it, but it had been enough. She reaches across Miles, putting her hand on Waylon's ribs, feeling for his heartbeat.

"I thought about you when I was there for real," Waylon says, almost completely muffled. "I was scared and scared for you and I missed you so much and I was angry, too. Way down where it was no help." He shivers all over. "This time you were there. He had cut you and posed you and it would have been me if I hadn't been late and he was going to find the boys."

Lisa can't help a little choked noise of horror, and all she can do is sort of clutch at Waylon while Miles starts to talk. His voice is incredibly gentle, almost nothing like his normal tone. "It's five thirty-two and you're here at the Undisclosed Location with me and Lisa, and we really should have you in the middle, the fuck are we thinking?"

Waylon lets out a weak chuckle and lets Miles crawl over him and bundle him into the middle of the bed, where Lisa can hold him tightly. Miles wraps his arms over hers and keeps up his litany of simple facts and stream-of-consciousness, and between them Waylon starts to ease down again. He needs someone to make another check on the boys before he can sleep, and Miles goes, touched that he qualifies for this job. It feels like forever before he comes back, but as soon as he hears that the boys are all right, Waylon is asleep again, still so exhausted.

'Bastard," Miles murmurs, in tones of deepest affection, and Lisa smiles, doing her best to hug them both.

"Thank you," she says, after a while of warmth and closeness and just listening to Waylon breathe.

"Hey, it's my only compensation for being there, myself," Miles says, and then chuckles as Waylon makes a contented little snuffling noise. "Well, okay," he murmurs, "I probably wouldn't be here otherwise, and this is worth a lot."

Lisa fumbles for Miles's hand, and then laces their fingers together. "We're glad to have you," she says, and Miles kisses her hand, shy even in the dark. She closes her eyes and keeps her grip on Miles, Waylon pressed between them.

It takes a while, but their breathing gradually slows down, and they join Waylon in sleep. This time no one has any nightmares, and when she wakes up again it's broad morning. Waylon gives her a kiss on the cheek and tells her to take the first shower. This is a pretty good little house, but the hot water doesn't last. Standing under the steaming spray, Lisa is glad to be cared for. She tries to be quick, and so does Waylon, but Miles still gets caught out, cursing as the temperature drops. He comes bursting out of the bathroom in a way that makes Lisa think of a half-grown puppy, all beaded with rain.


End file.
